


Two Nights

by Candipeach26



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rough Sex, Smut, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-12 01:29:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18436211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candipeach26/pseuds/Candipeach26
Summary: The air around them felt charged, some pivotal moment being reached, resistance deteriorating more and more with each passing second.  Dangerous territory, for a man and a woman with far too much to lose in the exchange.  And yet, neither of them backed away.On the contrary.-----Julia.  David.  And the two nights they share that change their lives forever.





	1. The First Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Just a few notes before we jump right in:
> 
> -LavenderIsTheNewBlack's hilarious comments on The MacDonald Chronicles, along with the resounding supportive voices of so many other lovely commenters on that story, put me up to this. Thanks, everyone. :)
> 
> -I ADORE episode 2 of Bodyguard. Just incredible television. And Julia and David go through some seismic changes in it, so this story is really about their impressions and reactions to the events of that episode, and how it changes their relationship...
> 
> -Which means there's plenty 'o sex. Good ol' SMUT. Please heed the warnings, and plan accordingly.
> 
> -The first night post-attack is from Julia's POV, the second is from David's. A lot of it is stream-of-consciousness writing: I'm experimenting with their characters' voices a bit through this work, so please forgive any intentional errors in structure.
> 
> Enjoy!  
> -Candi

* * *

In all her 42 years, Julia Montague had never experienced this.

The eerie, detached certainty that she was underwater.  Submerged entirely, observing from some deeply warped, silent place of retreat as some imposter that looked remarkably like herself carried on with the day. 

Yet she was doing an accurate job, this imposter.   Superb, even.  Uncanny.  Hair perfect, not a strand out of place.  Perfectly-applied makeup, signature crimson lips.  The requisite tailored suit, custom made to flatter her proportions.  One single chain adorning her long, graceful neck.  A tastefully expensive watch on her wrist, signet ring on her left hand.  Chic, elegant, professional. 

She looked exactly like the single most important woman in Britain.  The one who commanded headlines, demanded attention, courted every single media spotlight shone her way.  Whipped up a frenzy with her irresistible mix of cool intelligence and confident bravura, combining a heady sense of her own power with just a touch of sass and tons of effortless style.  She knew her best angle, every time, and was utterly unafraid of showing it off.  A tilt of the chin, a knowing spark in her wide, dark eyes, and she could captivate every single living soul in the UK. 

The imposter seemed to understand this intimately, seemed to get just how hard Julia had worked over years and years to cultivate this particular image.  And it responded accordingly, without reserve.  An appropriate brow furrow here, a small stretch of the lips here, holding herself tall and looking down her nose at those vying for even the smallest morsel of her attention. 

Julia watched on in awe.  It was extraordinary.

This imposter even sounded like her too:  eloquent, measured, dictating direction to staff and personal team, never breaking a sweat as questions flew her way about the attack yesterday, about how she was personally faring, and the other million questions that her position as the highest-ranking woman in British government entailed answering. It was endless, and yet the imposter seemed to flawlessly return each volley with just the right answer, the correct amount of contrition, a pitch-perfect display of grace under fire.

And all Julia could do was sit there, steeped in pervasive numbness, watching this wonderfully accurate imitation of her go about the affairs of the day.

Knowing the entire time that the actual Julia Montague had never left the blood-spattered confines of the back of the sedan.  That she remained crouched, frozen in time, clinging for dear life to a white leather seat turned entirely red, gruesomely dripping with the brain matter of her kind, unassuming driver.

She was still sitting on cold, black marble, naked and soaking wet.  Scalding water roaring at full blast, sluicing over her flushed skin, feeling as if she were practically on fire. Watching red water flow down the drain of the cavernous shower, wrenching sobs wracking her frame as they echoed off expensive glass doors.

She remained on the couch, limbs like lead, the tea in her hands tasting like brackish.  She had entirely forgotten when she’d gotten dressed, couldn’t recall moving from the shower floor to the bedroom to the living room at all.  Gunshots rang out in her mind ever so often, the remembrance of their deafening impact causing her to flinch even hours later.

And David.

Ever the courteous professional, showing up right on time.  Standing at attention from an appropriate distance.

Those beautiful, curiously blue eyes of his peering at her.  Sensitive, yet always shuttered.

His smooth, unlined face no longer covered in blood and sweat, nor twisted with rage and fear.

The concern written plainly across his features warring with the stoic demeanor he fought to maintain as he regarded the pitiful shell of her.  As she became convinced, with absolute certainty, that the two of them were deliberately abandoned by security forces that day and left to die in the line of fire.  As she hurled accusations at him, venting an anger that redoubled by the second, feeling veins distend in her neck and her heartbeat race uncontrollably.  Julia felt utterly delirious, lost, frightened to death, pissed off beyond words, her hands shaking violently as torrents of emotion finally came untethered, came crashing down upon them both.

She wanted **more** blood, truth be told. 

Perhaps the day hadn’t exacted enough of it.

She wanted heads to roll, here and now.  The _right_ heads.  By her hand, and hers alone.

Her fury finally boiled over, the elegant glassware sitting atop the credenza taking on the brunt of her ire as cups crashed and toppled and nearly broke.  David rushed over, his own concern reaching a breaking point as he endeavored to steady her.  He stood near, but not too near.  Close, but at a polite distance.

It made her want to scream.  And never stop screaming.

She was still there, at the credenza, his hand hovering over hers, neither of them moving for one long, unbearably tense moment.

 _Why wouldn’t he just fucking TOUCH her?_ she wondered in irritated exasperation, staring hard at his hand, large and callused, utterly still in midair.  Was she breakable?  Was she hideous in his eyes?  Was she a fucking robot to him, some inhuman, inanimate object to protect, rather than a living, breathing, _aching_ woman who was so bloody terrified right now she could barely function?  Why this needless propriety right now, this useless goddamn formality after the horrors they’d both just lived through?

And was HE just a bloody machine, this violently beautiful, stubbornly stoic man who’d managed to frustrate the living hell out of her ever since his assignment to her detail?  A man who’d made her lose sleep on more than one occasion, fondling herself beneath covers in a lonely bed at the mere thought of those heated, piercing blue eyes watching her every move?  Was he truly a man without sentience, without needs, without a speck of real desire or compassion for her?

She dared to admonish him for such a display of detached indifference, her voice cracking under the weight of her torment.  Dared, then, to cross the line, to explicitly invade his space, seeking something she couldn’t accurately name as she leaned into him without warning, losing herself in seconds. 

David smelled heavenly.  

His body was warm.  Broad shoulder so close, so inviting, the tweed slightly scratchy against her flushed cheek as she brushed against him.  Unbidden, Julia felt something deep within her throb to life, some delicious quickening at the very center of her rousing to attention, her nipples puckering as they slid enticingly across his jacket.  

The sensation was at once too much, and not even remotely enough, causing the last of her restraint to give way entirely.  Surrendering fully to pure need, to a desire too long suppressed and too seldom nurtured.  To the simple, basic human necessity for touch, for comfort, given freely with no strings attached.

And to be allowed, just for one blessed moment in time, to forget.

Julia knew he could provide that for her, was likely willing to provide that for her should she ask it of him.  Beneath the carefully blank, professional bluster he put on, it was obvious from the minute she’d read that extraordinary report about his heroics on the train that David cared much more about others than he’d ever let on openly, to the point of selfless personal sacrifice. Beyond that steely exterior lay a real, tangible kindness, an intriguing gentleness of spirit that hardly anyone else in her immediate circle possessed.  He couldn’t hide it if he tried; it was woven beautifully into his true nature, reflected in so many of the choices he made. 

Literally giving her the shirt off his back before the interview.  Opting to stay and dine with her after that disastrous mess with Rob.  Pissing off Roger intentionally to get him off her case, much to her amused delight.  During the attack: his bloody, outstretched hand, finding hers and holding on tightly.  His lone eye, seeking her out through the sliver of space between seat and door, imploring her to hold on, to trust that they’d make it out alive.  He hadn’t needed to offer that extra reassurance, those comforting words and gestures in the midst of their terrifying ordeal.  But he had done so regardless, all while singlehandedly getting them out of the line of fire and going after the gunman himself.

And thanks to him, and **only** him, she’d survived.

Julia had come to realize that she trusted David more than she’d allowed herself to trust anyone else in a very, very long time.  Admired him just as much.  Felt safe with him.  And yes, was deeply, undeniably attracted to him.  But she was also painfully aware of the risks involved in getting too close, risks that could ultimately harm them both. 

How far would she let this go, this bid for comfort that was rapidly morphing into something much more intimate?  If he knew what she really sought from him, sensed the ache in her for satiation that went far beyond the propriety they’d so tenuously maintained, what would he do?

The air around them felt charged, some pivotal moment being reached, resistance deteriorating more and more with each passing second.  Dangerous territory, for a man and a woman with far too much to lose in the exchange.  And yet, neither of them backed away.

On the contrary.

He’d held her, tentatively at first, strong arms hesitant as they wrapped around her tremulous frame.  Julia felt him relax and exhale deeply, the embrace they shared seeming to serve some unheralded need for contact in him as well.  David was always so inscrutable; she’d learned over time to live for those brief moments when the façade fell, where he actually deigned to reveal a layer beneath the dark suits and sworn duties.  This time, she felt it in his body, in the way his sides released their tension beneath her palms, his chest relaxing against hers.  It felt good, completely innocuous in nature, a harmless, kindly gesture on his part that served to soothe them both.

Until it wasn’t.

Until she felt him shift against her just so, his soft sigh fanning out against her cheek as he appeared to nuzzle her gently. Bodies pressed together as they were, she then felt **him** , the full, hard outline of him, impressively prominent beneath well-fitted denim and prodding at her navel with bold insistence. 

_Oh._

Julia wasn’t alone in this. 

Not in the least.

She risked pressing her lower body even more flush with his in that moment, seeking more, and was delightfully rewarded with the most minute of shudders rippling through David’s frame.  His head rocked against hers for the briefest of seconds as he appeared to be wrestling with himself, struggling against his now obvious need for her.

_Don’t fight it.  Please._

In the end, his lips hovering just over hers.  Waiting.

* * *

 

Julia’s still in bed. 

Still enraptured, speechless, lying back and watching David kneel over her, peering at her through lowered lashes as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt.  Watching as the meager golden light spilled upon his naked torso, illuminating Julia’s sensuous appraisal as she ran her hands slowly up his lean abdomen before pulling him down for another deep, intoxicating kiss.

Still negotiating the new weight of him, the feel of him on top of her, surrounding her so completely. 

Marveling at the wonder of David’s full mouth, so hot and moist, skillfully plundering hers, his teeth gently nibbling at her bottom lip.  Broad, muscled chest covered in dark hair, brushing deliciously against her bare breasts as she pressed herself against him, seeking even more contact, more delicious friction.

Flushing with heat as she felt David twitch strongly beneath her questing palm, cupping him firmly through his jeans.  Him breaking off their kiss with a sudden gasp, hands fumbling between them to undo his belt and zipper, pushing the coarse fabric down to reveal tight black boxers veritably struggling to contain _him_.  Julia, literally breathless as she slipped a bold hand beneath the waistband and held his cock for the first time, so thick and hard and utterly hot to the touch, the impressive length of him throbbing under her gentle ministrations. 

David’s softly whispered obscenities as she continued her slow strokes, his forehead pressed to hers, hips rocking in time with her hand as his arousal soon reached the point of no return.

Him parting, then lying firmly between, her trembling thighs.  David’s searing eyes on her, ever alert, watching her intently as he touched and teased.  Long, capable fingers gently parting her lips, fondling her, testing just how wet she was for him, circling her clit with a pressure so perfect it made her back arch of its own volition, whispering his name like an incantation, her breath unsteady as she felt her own arousal beginning to burn out of control.

The long, slow press of him, entering her at last.   Julia still feels herself stretching endlessly, yielding to David as he buries himself in her slowly, inch by torturous inch, feeling almost too full.  Fresh tears sting her eyes as the sensations coursing through her body threaten to overwhelm.  Julia hadn’t been touched like this, made love to like this, in so long.

 _Much_ too long.

And David’s tender.  Unbearably so.    

Patient, like they had all the time in the world.  His thrusts were wonderfully deep, his rhythm measured, lips planting hot kisses against the curve of her neck as Julia pulled him in closer, her hands feverishly seeking the feel of him, their shakiness all but gone as they slid through the dark silk of his curls, roved restlessly across his muscled back, grabbed at fistfuls of his shirt as their pleasure intensified.

David touched her as if she were some sort of rare, beautiful porcelain, handling her gently, huge hands cupping her hips and lifting them _just so_ as he shifted the angle of their coupling and plunged in deeper than ever.  Julia came almost instantly, crying out, thighs tightening around his hips as her entire body vibrated with the force of her orgasm.  David followed moments later, his hand squeezing hers and pressing it down to the mattress as she felt his rhythm stutter, his back tighten, her name escaping his beautiful mouth in a low, shuddering moan.

Minutes passed. Their bodies stilled, then cooled, passion ebbing slowly in the silent room as the night grew darker around them.

* * *

In the aftermath, Julia can feel herself finally retreating in the undertow, some deeply vital part of herself slipping beneath the surface, at last submerging beneath the waves of shock and grief that adrenaline had mercifully held off for hours on end.  She fully relinquishes the feel of David, the sound of him, his touch, the occurrence and aftermath of their lovemaking, all her senses residing entirely in a cocoon of soundless, endless grey.  And that’s where she remains.

He’s there, wide awake, questioning eyes flicking to her ever so often in the deafening silence. 

She says nothing. 

The cold light of dawn claims the room in slow, measured degrees. 

Nobody speaks or moves. 

He’s there.  Clearly present and accounted for. 

But she isn’t. 

_Not anymore._

Instead she settles for watching this utterly convincing, animated version of herself get up, clutching the lapels of a thick bathrobe as it heads into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly.  Burying its tired head in two hands that have yet to cease trembling.

Somewhere beyond the bathroom door, footsteps.  A pause.  And the sound of a much heavier door deftly shutting, a tentative connection severed in the quiet unease of the morning.

* * *

The day honestly felt as if it were never going to end, the hours stretching miserably thin as Julia remained firmly in her fugue state.  She saw herself watching a conference play out in real time around her, noting the total vacancy of her eyes, the disjointed nature of her movements as she culled documents and accepted reports from those around her. 

 _How can they not tell?_ she wondered mutely, mildly indignant at the lack of recognition from those who worked closely with her.  _Did they really think her behavior normal?  Was she honestly this soulless, this automated, in her usual dealings with her staff?_

Rob was saying something to her now; he did his job fairly well, yes, but she knew better than to expect any sort of deep scrutiny from a man like him.  Romantically-tinged attention, replete with awkward encounters?  Yes.  But anything beyond the superficial was utterly lost on him.  Mike surprised her, considering they shared ties in a deeper sense, having been elected to Parliament at roughly the same time and working as colleagues ever since.  He blinked owlishly at her, requesting a response on some news report that was to air later that week on the RIPA act, but said nothing more as she mechanically delivered the expected reply. 

Suddenly everyone rose, signaling the end of both the conference and workday. She watched numbly as her imposter rose from the chair and gathered her belongings, nodding her thanks at the various mumbled expressions of sympathy and contrition sent her way as staff members wandered out into the hall.  A hand squeezed her shoulder then, and she turned to see Mike, who’d by now dropped the professional act and was looking at her with evident worry.

“Are you alright, Julia?  There’s truly no need to dive right back in.  Perhaps a day or two away would be best,” he suggested, offering to take on more duties in the interim to allow her some recovery time.  She heard herself assuring in a hollow tone that she was fine, simply exhausted, ignoring the blatant skepticism on his face yet gamely accepting the offer he made to escort her down to the ground floor.  PC Knowles met them at the door, talking into her transceiver and making preparations for the driver to meet them at the curb momentarily with elevated protection measures.

The elevator doors opened.  Julia watched dispassionately as she and Mike stepped inside with the officer.  Mike was making some harmless observations, his voice vague and indistinct, becoming background noise to a numbness that was truly becoming too thick and heavy to overcome.  The elevator car began its descent, and Julia could feel herself descending even further down into nothingness; into grey, bleak matter, vital parts of her in active retreat as the trauma threatened to overcome even the autopilot mode she’d been so strenuously relying on all day long.  Feeling close to collapse, she vaguely felt the elevator come to a stop, heard the doors slide open, the tinny chime sounding as if it were kilometers away.  Time stretched, the space around her going hazy, the sound of voices growing distant as she drifted down, down, down…

“Good evening, ma’am.”

_That voice._

She looked up, directly into the vivid crystalline eyes of David Budd. 

Standing against the wall facing her, hands clasped in front, dark suit pressed and gear in place.  Back on duty.

It was like being yanked immediately from the depths of a cold, unforgiving sea into the blazing rays of the sun—no gradual adjustment nor time to acclimate back to familiar terrain, the fugue state that had so graciously accepted her beneath its heavy, black wing for the day suddenly releasing her back into herself, back into the world, in one fell, exciting swoop.   Without warning, awareness slammed back into her body, Julia nearly gasping out loud as she felt herself resurface abruptly, her skin tingling, vessels dilating with a tidal rush of sensation that felt almost painful to bear.  The detailed memories of last night that she’d readily abandoned in her fugue state returned suddenly in full technicolor force, the mere sight of the young protection officer triggering a path of heated recollection that made her eyes widen.

_They were lovers._

_They’d made love._

All she could do was stare at him.

And all he did was stare back. 

Face carefully impassive as always.  Eyes giving absolutely nothing away.

“Ma’am, I’ll take these.  Follow me,” David instructed tonelessly, stepping forward to accept her bags.  Julia handed them over, muttering a quick thanks and averting her gaze sharply as she tried to recollect herself with little success.  David, too, seemed to be studiously avoiding any direct visual contact with her now, turning sharply in the direction of the glass doors as he led them out to the plaza. 

Dusk had fallen over London, the twilight casting subtle shadows everywhere as the ambient noise of the city rushed back into Julia’s senses.  She was back on solid ground: feeling the light evening breeze, the pressure of her heels as they clicked against the pavement beneath, the heavy softness of her favorite cashmere coat as it wrapped snugly around her frame.  It felt so good to simply _feel_ again…she had never been an overly sentimental woman, and yet the fresh ecstasy of coming back to her senses was an absolute thrill, wonderful beyond words.

And yet. 

Coming back to her senses also came at a cost. 

Because Julia **_knew_** far too much now.

Her eyes fell upon David as he walked ahead, shoulders straight and gait swift, hair mussed by the wind, the fine cut of his dark suit emphasizing his lean masculine frame. Julia prayed to every deity she’d ever heard of that her protection officer was off his game a bit that night, thus unable to take note of how much his proximity was affecting her.  She felt sweat beading heavily between her breasts as David opened the door with a jerk of his arm, standing in tense profile as she walked past him and sat primly in the backseat.  Julia glimpsed his hands as he closed the door, watching him surreptitiously as he got in and diligently cataloged their status via transmitter before the car set off, pulling into traffic. 

Julia felt the truth of the matter, lamented it even as her eyes unconsciously flicked to David’s in the mirror.  He caught her gaze for a fraction of a moment, never changing expression as he broke their contact a second later, deliberately scanning the road ahead and pointedly avoiding her perusal with a cool, subtle insolence. 

This was a problem.  A major one, with no easy answers.

The problem being that there _**was**_ no going back.  

Julia knew David’s hands now.  Intimately.  Was all too aware of what they could do to her, what they were capable of stoking, how they could make her body catch fire.  She knew exactly what those coldly distant eyes in the mirror looked like in the grip of heated arousal, how the pupils dilated wide, the wild, bright cobalt of his irises darkening like the night sky.

And she knew exactly the texture of those dark, irresistible curls, knew precisely what it was to tug at them desperately in the throes of passion.  Knew, utterly and without reserve, the rippling, muscled terrain of those wide shoulders, the rigid plains of his strong chest, the dip and curve of his toned waist as he nestled within the cradle of her hips.  The thick, beautiful muscles of his ass, rhythmically flexing beneath her palms as she welcomed his deep, penetrating thrusts.  His powerfully-built thighs and the well-endowed nature of what lay between, hot and throbbing with need, _beyond_ ready for her.  The flare of his nostrils and the lurid, sweaty flush of his face as he fucked her, his lush mouth devouring hers over and over, positively making her toes curl with plea--

“Sierra Zulu 7-9.  Lavender entering the safe house.”

_Shit!_

David’s flat voice, cutting through her heated reverie like a thunderclap, startling her back into reality.  Julia looked around in alarm, seeing the now-familiar doors leading to the security entrance of the Blackwood Hotel.  The sedan door was abruptly yanked open, chilly air rushing in and causing her to shiver involuntarily.  She was so unbelievably sensitive, every single stimulus nearly overwhelming as she stepped out onto shaky legs, praying that the evidence of her thoughts didn’t show even as she felt their effect elsewhere in her body.

“Ma’am.”

Julia literally felt her sex twitch at the mere sound of his voice uttering the single syllable, blood rushing downward and pooling low in her abdomen, the sticky wetness she’d already felt between her thighs becoming even more pronounced as she walked in lockstep with David, not even remotely daring to look at him as they crossed the threshold and entered the hall.

_GOD, she wanted him. **Needed** him.  _

_Right now._

_This was madness._

She fought for some semblance of control, literally throbbing with need as they arrived at the bank of elevators near the far side of the hallway.  David was standing too close, much too close to her for the attempt at control to ever take hold, his eyes staring straight ahead and jaw set hard as he jabbed the call button.  Julia chanced a look at the young sergeant just then, noting the tight set to his shoulders, the pronounced frown, the coiled tension of his body.  Something felt completely off.  Was he…?

David must’ve felt her watching him, turning his head to meet her gaze just as the elevator chimed.  Despite the heat flooding her body, Julia felt herself literally flinch at their brief bit of eye contact, that split second confirming everything she needed to know about his current state of mind.

She wasn’t exactly sure why.  But David was absolutely _furious_.

* * *

“I’ll be in the adjoining room.  Have a good evening, ma’am.”

_Adjoining room!?_

Stunned, Julia managed to mutter a benign reply as she walked past, David shutting the door firmly behind him and departing before she’d even had a chance to properly react to this sudden turn of events.

He was staying here.  Overnight.  With her.  Only one door separating them. 

_Who the hell had made THAT decision without her consent?  When?  How? **WHY?**_

Julia stood stock-still at the entryway of her suite for one long moment, taking it in fully, the news only serving to accelerate the chaotic tangle of emotions warring for supremacy.  Anger.  Confusion.  Fear.  Concern.  Frustration.  Hesitation.  And at the center of them all, a hot, pulsating desire that literally made her want to rip the connecting door off its hinges and promptly stage an encore of the previous night, consequences be damned.

Yet it was abundantly clear from their ride up together that David was in quite the dark state of mind.  He was a complicated man,  not one for talking much even on his good days, but this felt dramatically worse: an obviously concentrated effort to shut her out, eyes blazing with contempt as he’d looked straight ahead, saying absolutely nothing, his seething practically palpable as the air between them grew terser by the millisecond. 

Julia removed her jacket and tossed it on the divan, taking slow, pensive steps into the living area as she weighed her options in silence.  If he was indeed upset about their night together (and admittedly, it hadn’t ended well), she should at minimum explain herself and clear the air.  She truly hadn’t been herself, had retreated completely into the misery of the traumatic events she’d endured, and she knew he of all people would certainly understand. David might have serious regrets to express, valid reasons to never again repeat the actions and choices made last night.  In any case, they both needed to take responsibility and clarify exactly where they stood.  Which entailed opening the door.

If there were other things at hand that affected his mood and thus his ability to work effectively, she should know.  Whether or not they had anything to do with her specifically, it wasn’t out of turn as his principal to simply check in on him and make sure all was well.  Simply a professional courtesy that would serve them both positively in the short and long term.  Which entailed opening the door.

She could say absolutely none of these things.  Neglect to explain herself, nor offer any sort of olive branch in hopes of regaining their tenuous equilibrium.  Yank David over the threshold by the lapels, crush her mouth to his, rekindle his evident desire for her. Remove every stitch of clothing from her body and his, shove him onto the nearest flat surface, and ride him hard until neither of them had the energy to move again.  Work out all of that frustration and anger in the hottest, sweatiest, most satisfying way possible.

Which _definitely_ entailed opening the door.

Before she knew it, she was standing right in front of it.  Palms sweaty.  Heart pounding in her chest.  Desire thrumming through her body at a fever pitch, threatening to consume her alive.  Julia ran a shaky hand through her hair, as turned on and terrified as she ever had been in her entire life, surrendering herself to the delicious uncertainty of it all.

She turned the lock.

And opened the door.

* * *

 

A/N:  David gets the second night.  Good Lawd.  Posting soon...


	2. The Second Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok...so I know it's Holy Week (happy holidays to those who celebrate!). This chapter is NOT Holy-Week compliant in any way, shape or form. It's NSFW as hell. In fact, I'm not even sure it's safe for home consumption. Let's just say Mr. Madden's little foray into dressing like a cowboy and posing for cameras put me in a MOOD while I was writing this, and it came out FAR dirtier than I intended it to. Please assign all blame to that ridiculously sexy creature.
> 
> So. Fair warning. Thanks for reading; please enjoy.  
> -Candi

* * *

_They really think I’m going to do their dirty work for them._

David closed the door behind Julia, shaking his head in silent disgust as he took quick steps towards the adjoining room.  Just when he thought his life had reached full FUBAR status, the last two days had proven him sorely wrong.

The attack. 

Andy. 

Blown away by his own hand.  Yet another casualty of the war.  Another sickening memory to force down, to forget entirely by day and confront in his nightmares every single night for the rest of his life.

The police force and this bullshit espionage mission.  Sampson and Craddock, smug and insistent, pulling the strings and thinking he was simply going to be jerked around according to their agenda.  David had become excellent at feigning obedience, at playing the perfect copper and schooling his face into a mask that betrayed hardly anything.  But it was all he could do to maintain his composure that day as they’d forced their latest assignment on him, one which he had no intention of ever carrying out.  

Which brought him to the main source of his struggle.

Julia. 

And his inexplicable tendency to think with precisely the wrong head when it came to her lately.  What should’ve been a short visit the night before to provide a bit of comfort and perhaps some answers had turned into something else _**entirely**_.

David slammed the door shut, grateful to finally be alone as the strain of holding so much stress manifested itself practically everywhere in his body; head aching, shoulders tense, his movements jerky as he yanked off his suit jacket and loosened his tie.  Thoughts, scattered and tense, flitted through his mind at warp speed. 

He was tired. He wanted a drink.  Wanted to go for a run.  Wanted to shoot something. Wanted to quit. Wanted to scream. 

Wanted to lose himself in her again. 

_Fucking fantastic._

This was absurd in the extreme, David still wanting her, even after all he knew and suspected.  The singular fact that Julia was utterly incapable of a straight answer, of an actual honest exchange when it came down to the question of what she’d known about the school bombing, meant that in all likelihood his superiors were probably right about the danger she posed, the lies she was willing to dispense in an effort to cover her own ass. 

Insincere, greedy, calculating. Out to win at all costs. 

A politician. Through and through.

He should hate Julia.  Absolutely detest her.  Hold her in only the darkest esteem, much like he had before everything else happened, before Andy and the attack.  Before he actually _knew_ her.  Spoken to her.  Appreciated her wit.  Gained her trust.  If only she’d kept up the façade, the one that was easy to hate, to dismiss, to brand as anathema to everything he held true and vital to his core beliefs.

If only she hadn’t appealed to him in the most devastating ways.  By being warmer in person than he’d ever anticipated.  Intelligent.  Kinder.  More generous.  Attentive.

Beautiful.

_Sexy._

David shook his head vehemently, as if doing so would rid him of everything pertaining to the night before: the images of her lying beneath him, touching him with sensitive hands, arching her soft body against his as he slid into her snugly, the sweet warmth of her mouth opening to his over and over.  Her eyes, watery but clear as she’d looked at him in the dim light, full of need, of desire and wonder.  Of trust.

He couldn’t recall the last time anyone had looked at him like that. 

Vick, years ago perhaps, before the war, before everything went to shit in their marriage and her eyes became veiled, hard, weary at the mere thought of him.  Before last night, he hadn’t had sex in well over a year, as they’d separated and he moved away.  She wanted no parts of him, a fact he steadfastly refused to accept even as she clearly made efforts to move on and he made increasingly futile efforts to reconcile with her, to regain what they’d lost. 

There had been nothing else for him but his family, nobody else he’d wanted but Vicky. 

Last night, however, had thrown everything into absolute disarray.  Revealed much more than David was honestly willing to confront right now. 

Yet once again, just as it had last night, his body overrode his anger and distrust, his reluctance and frustration with the situation, and simply responded to the memories of Julia: to the fresh recollection of their unbelievably sensual tryst, of having finally been satiated sexually after months and months of inaction and unsatisfactory, brief sessions alone in the shower with a practiced hand and a dull attempt at gratification.  Responded to the fact that, as fate and the incredibly shady dealings of the Metropolitan Police would have it, the current object of his desire was now less than five meters away in the next room.

And, much like his wife, wanted no parts of him whatsoever. 

Her avoidance of him since their night together could hardly be mistaken for anything else.  She’d been scared, wanted some comfort, they slept together, and she now obviously regretted the decision.  He could take a hint, leave Julia the fuck alone if that’s what she wanted.  Reset to day one, pretend nothing had ever happened between them.  Fine by him.

David studiously ignored his growing erection, frustrated as hell and glaring daggers at the connecting door as he continued yanking off his gear, his gun holster, throwing it all carelessly on the bed as he moved to make quick work of his shirt.  Hands shaking with anger, he could barely get past the third button before aborting the effort entirely, breaking off mid-action with a harsh sigh.  Eyes closing momentarily, he fought for some semblance of control amid the chaos of his thoughts, the nagging, obvious rebellion of his body. 

Footsteps.

David’s razor-sharp instincts kicked into gear, his senses attuning abruptly to the solitary sound. 

_Julia._

He turned his head suddenly, eyes narrowing as he stared at the door that separated their rooms.  Hardly dared to breathe for fear of scaring her off.

_Come on._

Her heels, sharp and definite against the hardwood floor.  Tentative steps, growing closer.  And closer.  Closer still.

Pausing.

David exhaled, raising an eyebrow in curiosity as he moved toward the door, feeling his blood begin to surge south to an even greater extent, his heartbeat quickening dangerously.

He realized quickly how flawed his perception had been.  What he’d mistaken for discomfort, for alienation on the ride over, now reframed itself neatly in light of her encroaching presence in the next room:  her unsteady breath, gaze shifting away from him, the wavering nature of her footsteps and the faint blush of her cheeks as she’d stood beside him on the lift, not daring to look his way.   Perhaps it was reluctant on her part, but the truth was becoming unmistakable now, clear as day. 

Last night hadn’t been a fluke after all, hadn’t been just some bid for comfort that he was simply in a unique position as her PPO to fulfill.  He wasn’t a convenience, some meaningless dalliance of hers that held no real value.  No…the impossibly sophisticated, haughty, flawless Julia Montague, the woman with a ton of nerve and undeniable strength, imbued with power she wielded without mercy at the national level, evidently had a weakness. 

And that weakness was him.

_She happens to regard you…as her blue-eyed boy._

Sampson’s coolly-delivered taunt from earlier in the day came to mind, the truthfulness of it only now beginning to sink in as David watched the lock turn slowly, the knob depress, the door open without a sound.  His burning gaze swept up to meet a pair of wide dark eyes, surprise mingling with an answering lust in their depths, her expression putting all lingering doubts to rest.

Julia Montague wanted him. 

**Badly.**

To the point where she was obviously willing to assume unending risk and relentless scrutiny just to have his hands on her again, have him possess her in the fullest, hottest sense of the word. 

He advanced on Julia slowly, eyes never leaving hers, hot and bothered anew with the knowledge of his power over her.  Taking in the dewy sheen of her face, her lips parting slightly as he crossed the threshold into her room, the sultry scent of her so erotic that David could barely contain his arousal.  Julia stopped him just as he got to within an inch of her mouth, so close that their warm breath mingled in the meager space between.  She placed a firm hand on his chest, arresting his movement.

They stood, staring at each other.  As if daring the other to turn away, to fold, to cut the tension and come to their senses, extinguish the growing inferno between them that was threatening to burn out of control.

Or to make the first move.

* * *

 

Julia dove first, capturing his mouth with hers, passionately urging him on as he eagerly returned the favor, backing her further into the room.  All the gentleness and care of the night before vanished entirely, David wasting no time at all as he deepened their kiss, tongue entwining sensually with hers as he slid a hand beneath her nape, tangling a hand in those perfect silken curls as he pulled her closer to him. 

They ended up across the room in mere moments, Julia trapped between him and a low console table, furiously removing clothing at warp speed as their lust began to reach a fever pitch.  David practically ripped the last remaining buttons off his shirt, tearing it off, not even remotely bothering with his vest as his hands busied themselves with Julia’s trousers. 

She was so hot for him, breathing heavily, plying his jaw with soft kisses as he finally yanked down the offending fabric, sliding the moist silk of her panties aside to get at the very core of her, all molten and slick, pulsing with heat.  David lifted Julia easily onto the edge of the table before parting her thighs roughly, feeling her wrap her arms around him, clinging to him desperately as she realized just how quickly their tryst was progressing.  

He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Your job…my job, it just…complicates…everything,” she ground out, panting hard as David slid down his trousers and boxers in record time and seized himself in hand, his cock standing painfully erect, thick shaft engorged and pulsing wildly.  He stroked himself, enjoying the momentary thrill of Julia peering down at him hungrily, biting her lip, visibly impressed by the sight of him.  He knew he was bigger than average, usually took his time so that he didn’t hurt his partner, but he could tell Julia was more than ready for everything he had to offer.  Lining his hips up with hers, David tilted her back just a little, one hand cupping the ample curves of her bottom, the other wrapped around her shoulders to steady her as he surged forward in one quick movement.

That first thrust felt incredible.  David felt himself bottom out, burying himself deep in Julia, savoring her lusty cry as he exhaled deeply.  He fought hard for control as all that lush, wet heat surrounded his aching cock, made him twitch hard inside of her.  _Fuck…_

“Nothing complicates my job,” he murmured into her ear, voice throaty as he continued with his sharp, punishing thrusts.  Julia grew even wetter around him, her sighs echoing loudly in the room as she clutched tightly at his shoulders.  “It’s to protect you…”

And it was.  Nothing had to touch this, to complicate it.  His job was his job; he was damn good at it, had already saved her life, proven himself worthy of his position.  For the first time in a very long time, David felt absolutely free, untethered by guilt, the knowledge that his wife was already moving on with another man finally allowing him a bit of permission to seek his own enjoyment, follow a bit of mutual attraction to its own ends.  To have his touch welcomed, have a beautiful woman appreciate his presence, his company, his body.  That it was his principal, and thus allegedly off-limits, didn’t have to factor into it at all.  If she didn’t mind, neither did he. 

She’d protect him with her power.  And he’d protect her with his life. 

* * *

 

She was still wearing too much.  Far too much. 

So was he.

They’d made it to the bed and fell atop it, all entwined limbs and mouths that couldn’t seem to stop seeking each other.  Julia’s soft, beautiful lips were a revelation, relentless in their pursuit as they slanted over his own before breaking off to trail against his throat.  She sucked gently at the sensitive skin just beneath his jawline, the sensation nearly driving him mad. David moved away from her breathlessly, amused as she huffed a breath in frustration. 

“David—”

“Shhh…” he whispered, enjoying the sight of her squirming for once, relishing the feeling of denying the ever-demanding Julia Montague any sort of instant gratification.  His hands sought the hem of her sheer top, lifting it as she obediently raised her arms to accommodate the motion.  Skilled fingers made quick work of the bra clasp beneath her shoulders before grasping the straps and lifting it away.  David stared as Julia lay there in nothing but a scrap of black silk, taking in fully the sight that had always eluded him beneath all the tailored suits and cashmere coats, the sight he’d neglected to take time for the night before. 

The long line of her neck, sloping into pale shoulders dotted subtly with light freckles. Small, pert breasts, nipples rosy and pointed, taut peaks beckoning his mouth.  The flat, smooth angle of her stomach, rounding gently at her navel.  The broad curve of her hips, wide and wonderfully feminine, tapering down to soft thighs and shapely calves.  Even her feet were elegant; long and slender, delicately arched.  Everything about Julia was so polished, refined, beautiful beyond words; he barely knew where to start, desperate to learn every inch of her body, to commit it all to lasting memory.  David drank her in quietly for an endless moment, enjoying the way Julia finally blushed at the intense scrutiny as she watched him from beneath her lashes.

“Would you like to take a picture, Sergeant Budd?  I hear they last longer,” she teased amusedly, both flustered and flattered in equal measure as she shifted restlessly against the sheets.  A corner of David’s mouth lifted in response as he straddled her legs, leaning back on his heels and leveling her with a penetrating gaze.

“You have no idea what I’d like to do to you, ma’am,” he assured Julia in a tone thick with lust, enjoying the sight of her swallowing heavily as he undid the straps of his Kevlar vest.  He finally divested himself of its heavy bulk, baring his muscled torso to her fully for the first time.  David watched as Julia took in the sight of him appreciatively, observed the barest hint of concern flicker across her face as her eyes spied the heavy scarring along his left flank.  She raised a hand to touch him there…and his hand shot out, intercepting her path.

“Not yet,” David sighed, encircling her wrist with one broad palm as he leaned over her, planting a soft, lingering kiss on her lips as he grasped her other wrist at the same time.  He pinned both wrists slightly above her head, pressing them down to the pillow and fixing Julia with a mocking glare, eyebrows raised in warning should she not comply.  “Stay.”

She nodded slowly, visibly turned on by the prospect of their game even as she pouted a bit at the restraints it entailed.  David allowed his mouth to hover over hers for a moment, just out of reach, taunting her as Julia tilted her chin up a little to reach him.  He settled for pressing the tiniest kiss at the corner of her mouth before tracing a path downward, grazing her neck with his lips as he blazed a path down to the center of her chest.  Warm, broad palms came down to cradle her breasts, caressing the soft mounds of flesh as his mouth latched wetly onto one peaked nipple, suckling gently.

Julia nearly arched out of reach, gasping aloud, David’s directives all but forgotten as her hands sought him out, fingers grasping at his shoulders tightly.  He stopped immediately, fixing her with a reprimanding scowl as he grabbed her wrists again and pinned them even more forcefully to the mattress.  “No.”

“You can’t—”

“I’ll stop,” David warned her, his voice a low growl.  Nestled as he was between her thighs, he deliberately pressed the hot, heavy length of his erection against her still-clothed sex, reminding her what was in store if, and only if, she behaved.  Julia shut her eyes, moaning as her entire body shuddered in reaction.  David cursed under his breath, wondering how the hell he was going to possibly last with Julia writhing like this beneath him.

He got right down to it, keeping her wrists immobile in one of his hands while the other sought lower pastures, sliding boldly beneath the silk of her panties.  David’s mouth resumed its place at her nipple, his lips tugging at the aureole before his tongue darted out to flick against its peak.  Julia whispered his name, her head rocking wildly against the pillow as he lavished the same maddening, careful attention on her other breast while simultaneously sliding two fingers deep inside the soft, wet heat of her pussy.

“God, David…” Julia bucked up against his hand sharply, David abandoning his task to capture her mouth in a fierce liplock even as his hand never stopped its sensual assault below, delving in, slipping out to stroke the swollen lips, the outline of her clit engorged and plump against his fingertips.  His mouth watered at the feel of her, the smell of her, the _sound_ of her sex practically dripping beneath his fingers as he massaged her in intimate, rhythmic strokes.

He had to taste her.  Now.  Before his sanity left him entirely.

Before she could react, he broke off their kiss and let go of her wrists as made his way quickly down the length of her body.  Chest heaving and nostrils flaring, he grasped the delicate silk of her panties with both hands and yanked hard, tearing the drenched fabric in two, hardly sparing a moment to take in Julia’s shocked expression as he swiftly lifted both her thighs atop his shoulders and settled between them.

“Fuck…” Julia was practically incoherent, jaw dropped as she regarded him with surprise, tiny moans escaping her with each exhale as she stayed frozen in place, trembling with anticipation.  David let the full weight of his gaze pierce hers, never looking away as he pressed a searing kiss to the soft paleness of each inner thigh before doing the same to the very center of her, feeling the slick flesh quiver with pleasure.

He let his tongue touch her, finally taste her at last, trailing a sensitive line upwards before pressing more firmly against her throbbing clit.  Julia jerked against his mouth, hair wild as she thrashed about, biting her lip with the strain of staying still and gasping audibly as David licked and sucked at her for long, luscious minutes, teasing her without remorse, the taste of her intoxicating as he endeavored to slide his fingers gently in again while his lips wrapped around her clit, firmly suckling the tiny bud of flesh. 

Julia veritably screamed, turning her flushed face to bury it in the pillow as she came with astonishing force, her body convulsing as her thighs tightened around David, ankles entwining behind his head and holding him in place as she rode out the throes of a powerful orgasm.  He rained light kisses on her sensitive flesh, letting her wind down, feeling her sex flutter against his lips as her pelvis rocked and she rode his mouth in subtle undulations.  She was still recovering, breath coming fast and body still trembling with aftershocks as she opened her eyes in time to watch him fully disrobe, staring at her with primal intensity as he pulled his boxers off entirely, unable to hold his own arousal in check any longer.

David was still unbelievably hard, huge erection at full mast and bobbing gently against his abdomen as he climbed back atop the bed and dared to manhandle her without warning, grasping her hips and swiftly flipping her onto her belly in one strong, sudden maneuver.  Stunned and breathless with need, Julia peered back at him with wide eyes, a lock of her dark hair falling sexily over her brow as the lush, full curves of her bottom enticed him to no end. 

_God, he’d never been so hot for anyone in his entire life._

David wasted no time, bracing himself over Julia and planting a searing kiss between her shoulder blades as he positioned himself behind her, wrapping a muscled arm around her waist as he forced himself within her in one hard, deep stroke.  They both cried out, David immediately setting a fast, almost animalistic tempo as he fucked her roughly, Julia’s sharp gasps and broken moans punctuated by curses as her hand snaked up to his hair, fisting in his curls as she brought his mouth down to hers.

Their tongues danced madly as their bodies became a sexual blur. David felt himself quickly losing control, the telltale pressure building within, unable to hold back as he found himself violently hurtling towards orgasm.  Breaking off from her mouth, he uttered a hoarse groan as his hips snapped once, twice more, tumbling over the edge as he came, burying his sweaty head in the crook of Julia’s neck as he felt his entire body spasm in acute waves of pleasure.  David collapsed atop her bonelessly, panting hard and eyes closing in absolute exhaustion, feeling her settle beneath him as they wound down together.

Nobody moved for long moments. 

Fully sated but much too tired to exert any sort of energy, let alone open his eyes, David nonetheless shifted slightly to the side as he felt Julia stir beneath him.  He was only barely aware of a cool sheet being lifted over his naked skin, only dimly recalled heard the tiny click of a nightlight switch being turned off, followed by a quiet exhale.

David drifted into restful sleep for the first time in as long as he could remember.

* * *

 

Something soft was tickling him.  Chasing the numbness away.

Disoriented, David managed to crack one eye open.

Fresh, golden sunlight was pouring liberally through the beige shades, the room practically glowing with the arrival of dawn.  It took a moment for him to recognize his surroundings: the luxuriously soft sheets beneath him, the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, the sleek, dark modern décor of a master suite.

Julia’s master suite.

_Julia._

He opened both eyes then, casting his gaze downward to discover the source of the sensation that had awakened him from slumber.

Julia was still there, in bed with him.  

Awake.  Fully nude, hair mussed, her lips planting soft, light kisses along the length and breadth of the burn scars adorning his flank. 

The sensation was oddly soothing, given the amount of nerve damage he’d sustained and the numbness that had accompanied it ever since.  And yet the gesture also brought up so many emotions for him.  Shame.  Anger.  Trauma.  Blame, in part directed at the very woman lovingly adorning the scars with presses of her mouth.  The strange instinct to protect himself from her, to guard himself against further vulnerability despite the last two nights and what they’d shared in the aftermath of the attack. 

Yet it was too late to retreat again.  He’d shown her too much, betrayed his own desire to stay out of the fray, to avoid getting too close to anyone.  Especially someone he couldn’t trust.

_Especially her._

And yet here he was.

For a man used to devising plans to take down terrorists and who’d specialized in guerilla warfare over 10 years of military service, he nonetheless found himself absolutely clueless as to how to proceed from here.

“David?” 

Julia’s quiet whisper broke the silence.  Her motions stilled. 

He closed his eyes, choosing not to respond to her.  Ruminating for one long, pregnant pause.

What he felt was fear. 

He was afraid to turn and face her.  Afraid of what he was thinking, the tangled chaos of his emotions.  Feared her reaction to last night, to finding out the real reasons behind his assignment to the room next door and what he was being pressured to commit against her.  Feared rejection, even as her actions this morning were clearly suggesting otherwise.  Afraid that he was literally sleeping with the enemy, with a powerful, scheming woman who could cost him much more than a few sleepless nights in the long term.

Feared most of all that, in the midst of all the upheaval in his marriage and the desire they’d let loose over the last two nights, he was really, truly beginning to care for Julia Montague in a much deeper, completely unexpected sense.  Felt his nascent attraction to her growing stronger by the day, his fascination with her and the way she made him feel beginning to take precedence over all else.

Falling for her.

David knew he was utterly unprepared for what lay on the other side of her quiet query. 

But he was nothing if not brave.  Foolishly so. 

He opened his eyes and turned to face Julia.  Saw the golden light play against her beautiful face, her hazel eyes sparkling brightly as she regarded him with a small, private smile. The sight of her like this stunned him, took his breath away in that moment.  David knew exactly what he was feeling, beyond a shadow of a doubt.  Found himself slowly accepting it, consequences be damned, returning her smile with a rare one of his own before leaning in and kissing her tenderly.

_Aye.  I’m falling for her, all right._

And nothing else needed to matter right now.

* * *

 


End file.
